


The Trick of Love

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: When the lines between friendship, love, and lust start to become hopelessly blurred it takes a small trick of love to bring them back together.





	The Trick of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Hadn’t her mother warned her? Hadn’t she balked and said it was positively indecent for a young woman to live alone with two men? Of course, Hermione had assured her mother that she had nothing to worry about, Harry and Ron were her best friends, very trustworthy lads, and certainly not the type of men who’d ever do anything remotely crude or improper.

The last bit had been a stretch, but she’d felt secure in her belief that nothing drastic could happen by saving a little money and sharing a two bedroom flat with Harry and Ron. In fact, she had looked forward to it.

Their final days at Hogwarts had been horrible up until Voldemort’s defeat at the end of their seventh year. The final battle had been bloody and while they had all expected death and horror to be part of the final confrontation with Voldemort, they had been ill-prepared for the carnage. For the depth of it, for the absolute finality of it. Already possessing a friendship that was destined for the history books, the three of them had bonded even closer together in the aftermath. The Wizarding World had been turned on its axis, and not being certain of either their present or their future, they had clung to their friendship like a rock, secure in the knowledge that they could deal with anything life sent them as long as they were together.

When they’d left school, the idea of living on her own seemed foreign. It was almost without thought that she, Ron and Harry planned their living arrangements, much to the horror of her mother and Mrs. Weasley.

There were a few technical things that had quickly become necessary when living in a shared home, like having to bring her clothes with her to dress in the tiny second bathroom when she took a shower or always wearing her dressing gown at night. Then a few weeks after they’d moved in, she’d come home late from work to see Harry and Ron on the couch, shirtless. So, she started doing away with her strict modesty a little at a time, until after a few months she thought nothing of making the track from her bathroom to the bedroom in naught but a towel or eating pizza in front of the telly at night, wearing nothing but knickers and one of Ron’s old shirts. After what the three of them had been through, what was a little skin between friends?

Her eyes did wander from time to time. How could they not? Harry and Ron were both very healthy young men, surprisingly well put together after many months of Auror training. It had been odd to see their sculpted abs for the first time or the bulge in their biceps. She may have dreamt about them a time or two. Or fantasized about running her fingers over the lines of hard muscles on Ron’s back. Maybe kissing Harry’s hipbone, the one that sometimes showed when his pyjamas hung low on his waist. But those were normal reactions and certainly something she could deal with.

No, that wasn’t what had started the problems, that wonderful display of male flesh; it had been something else all together, something she would have been far better off not discovering. The funny thing was, she probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t woken late one night with a dreadful need to go to the loo.

Wearing another of Ron’s shirts, she padded quietly out of her room and wished for the thousandth time that her bathroom was in her room instead of clear across the flat. Since Harry and Ron shared a room, it only made sense to give them the master suite with a connecting bathroom. But, that didn’t stop her from complaining about it in the middle of the night, and she was still mumbling when a noise stopped her.

Years of war had made her jumpy and she looked towards Ron and Harry’s bedroom where the noise had come from. The door was cracked, and the light was on, which was odd. It occurred to her that one or the other might be sick, so she walked closer, feeling nothing but concern. Hermione stopped, staring wide-eyed at what she saw.

Ron was over Harry, his large frame easily pinning him to the bed as he kissed him fiercely on the lips. They were both bare-chested and Ron was stripped down to his boxers while Harry still wore his pyjama bottoms. There was another choked moan as Harry broke away and his head tossed back against the pillow. Undeterred, Ron attacked his neck with the enthusiasm only someone young and randy could pull off.

Heat speared through Hermione and her face flushed, though only partially from embarrassment. Dampness pooled between her thighs as she watched Harry’s hips thrust up against Ron’s and her mind immediately went to work with wild ideas of what he was seeking.

There was nothing soft or sweet about any of it. It was hard and rowdy, bursting with male energy and desire. She could almost taste the testosterone in the air as they strained against each other, exchanging wet kisses between breathy moans. Then she watched Harry’s hand slide beneath Ron’s hideous orange boxers, pumping him rhythmically until Ron threw his head back in abandon. It was all so basic and primal, not without caring, but certainly more lust driven than anything else.

“Merlin. . .That’s good. . .” Ron reached down to tug roughly at Harry’s pyjama bottoms while thrusting blindly against Harry’s hand. “I need to fuck you. . . I can’t wait. . .”

Harry raised his hips, helping pull his pyjamas all the way down. Hermione’s eyes darted to his liberated erection, seeing it jut up out of a nest of black curls and straining towards his stomach as his hand continued to stroke inside Ron’s boxers. Hermione bit her lip, feeling her first real surge of guilt when she found herself willing those boxers away so that she might see Ron too.

“S-stop, I can’t take anymore.” Ron pushed Harry’s hand away and finally freed himself, kicking his boxers off to land carelessly on the floor. Naked, he deftly rolled on his side, jerked open the drawer on his nightstand, and started shifting recklessly through its contents. “Damn. . .where is it?”

“Fuck. . . it’s in my drawer. . .”

“Your drawer? But we haven’t fucked on your bed. . .not in. . .” Ron chest was rising and falling sharply with raspy breaths but suddenly he smiled at Harry and let out a barking laugh. “You wanker!”

Harry laughed back breathlessly. “I learn from the best.”

“Where was I while you were wanking in private?”

“Snoring,” Harry deadpanned as he eyed Ron’s erection and then leaned over to caress it once more, letting his hand slide down the long, thick length of it. “You sleep like the dead.”

Ron swatted Harry’s hand away and leapt out of bed with an ease that shouldn’t have been allowed someone of his height. Hermione panicked and darted away, not wanting to get caught, and stumbled back to her bedroom, having the presence of mind to take great care when closing it.

A myriad of emotions surged through her as she sat on her bed and stared sightlessly into the darkness. She was hurt, and angry, and so jealous that she could hardly stand it. She felt alone and left out. Her imagination must have got away from her when she thought she sensed Ron’s eyes on her, lingering longer than they should on her bare thighs when they lounged in the living room at night. She had even thought she caught Harry looking at the line between her breasts when he walked past her on her towel-clad journey from her bathroom to her room after a shower.

No, they obviously only had eyes for each other. How could she have been so blind? She felt horribly left out that they could share something so intimate without her. She hadn’t ever considered they had that sort of relationship.

Knowing the basics, Hermione had never even spent time thinking of what exactly two men got up to when they chose to be together. She should feel horrified at what she saw, but that was one thing she didn’t feel. She’d witnessed something secret, something wholly male, a side of sexuality that women weren’t generally let in on and that was the worst of it all, because it thrilled her. Her heart was still pounding in her chest at the sense of taboo.

The ache between her legs was nearly painful it was so desperate. Her skin tingled with a new, exciting feeling she’d never had before. She wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t all that experienced either. The pitiful fumblings that she’d endured with her first and only boyfriend, Terry Boot, seemed to pale in comparison to what she felt now. Hermione wasn’t the fanciful sort, she always saw sex as an act that was messy and sticky and not overly thrilling. With what she had to draw on from her few times with Terry, her hypothesis hadn’t been incorrect.

Now the thrill that was shooting through her, pulsating at her center, refusing to be denied, made her second guess that original assumption. She felt robbed that she hadn’t been able to watch the scene play out to its completion. Ron and Harry had been so stunning fully naked, with their contrasting complexions bringing out the beauty in each of them. Ron was tall, broad shouldered, with his striking red hair and freckled skin, while Harry was dark haired and alabaster skinned with a slim, wiry strength that was delightfully different from Ron’s muscled bulk. Hermione was nothing if not observant, and she’d taken in a lot in those few lust-filled moments. She’d seen all of both men and was suffering now because of it.

It was out of sheer necessity that her fingers slid beneath the lining of her knickers and began to rub against the tiny nub hidden between her folds. She’d never been so wet, so needy, and her movements were near frantic as she remembered seeing Ron’s erection finally freed from his boxers, longer and thicker than Harry’s, but no less beautiful because of it. Would he kneel behind Harry when he finally pushed inside him, gripping his hips and pumping in and out? Would he fuck Harry in that same exuberant way she witnessed them kiss, wild, bold, and free of inhibitions? The images tormented her and she climaxed violently, drawing blood as she bit at her lip to keep silent. She wanted to know more; her curious mind worked over the questions so many times she hardly slept that night and was tortured for weeks after.

 

Despite her best attempts to ignore it, an idea had taken root, a fetish that had her spending her spare time huddled in Muggle libraries, researching the mechanics of sex between two men. She had hoped that by doing thorough research she’d relieve the curiosity and still the obsession, but it had made it worse. The hurt was there too, that nagging feeling of being abandoned, but even that had been pushed to the wayside by the constant lust that had been building inside her.

It was the worst thing that could have happened because now she was uncomfortable at home. The constant unfulfilled passion and hurt feelings made her snappy, and no matter how many times she snuck off to quickly ease the ache, it never fully left and Harry and Ron had both noticed the change in her. They asked everyday if something was wrong, if they had somehow angered her, but she just rebutted their futile attempts at understanding her sulky mood.

At night after they’d all retreated to bed, she’d lay awake and talk herself out of going to watch once more. It was so wrong, so forbidden, and she knew better. Even in her hurt and betrayal, she wouldn’t want to invade their privacy, but the need was there. Hermione feared it’d only be a matter of time before she would give in and go for another peek.

 

~*~

 

He really should have listened to his mother. Wasn’t it a cruel reality that she always turned out to be right? That never stopped him for testing the unspoken law, but this time he wished he hadn’t. Once again her words had proved true. He knew now that two men should never, ever, live alone with a woman. Especially not with one he’d been lusting after for the good part of five years.

He hadn’t considered the torment he’d go through seeing her bare legs when she walked around brazenly in one of his shirts. It was so maddening he often thought of telling her to leave his clothes alone, but he loved her smell on them when they eventually found their way back into his drawer. Even after the laundry, he could always catch a hint of her scent and it wafted with him throughout the day, torturing him with the reminder of how good she looked in nothing but a shirt and hidden knickers. Sexy little underthings that he could usually get a peek at if he tilted his head just so as she watched the Muggle telly.

In fact, he’d got so good at catching a glimpse of the tiny slip of material between her legs that Harry usually asked him what color she was wearing every night after she’d gone off to bed. Sometimes she wore blue, sometimes they were green, a few were patterned and most were plain white, though once he could have sworn he saw black lace and that had nearly drove him mad. He’d even volunteered to do the laundry for the next week in hopes of confirming his suspicions, but Hermione always washed her underthings separately. Bugger.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Ron started as he was ripped from his thoughts and turned quickly to see Harry smiling at him. “No.”

“Right,” Harry said, arching an eyebrow at Ron’s hardened cock, plainly visible since he was laying on the bed completely starkers. “What’s that from then?”

Sometimes Ron wondered just how much mind reading Harry had picked up from his years of Occlumency training. Hoping to end this particular conversation, he reached over and sunk his fingers into Harry’s hair, pulling his mouth to his. Ron swallowed his muffled protest and took advantage of his shock to thrust his tongue into his mouth. Harry always looked so good in the morning, naked, with his hair wilder than usual and his green eyes wide and so different when they weren’t hidden behind his glasses. Ron had started waking up early just to enjoy it.

“Mmph,” Harry mumbled and pushed against his chest, shoving Ron away. “You’re trying to distract me.”

Ron crawled over him, using his weight to pin Harry to the mattress. He lazily trailed his lips down his throat, stopping to bite at his shoulder, making Harry grunt and thrust against him. Ron bit him again, this time sinking his teeth sharply into the sensitive skin on the curve of his neck. Harry groaned loudly and tangled his fingers into Ron’s hair.

“You’ve got issues. . . We really should talk about your masochistic tendencies.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to analyze that particular part of me.” Harry moaned as Ron branded the other side of his neck. “Besides, I’m not the one lying to myself. . . I know I’m fucked up.”

Ron frowned and lifted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You want her so badly it’s heartbreaking,” Harry sighed. He studied him for a moment and then shifted from underneath Ron and sat up. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Ron felt his mouth go dry as guilt surged through him. “I can’t help it. . .You know I like girls.”

“So do I,” Harry shot back.

Ron choked back a laugh and Harry lashed out, punching him hard in the arm. He may not be made of much, but his punches hurt and Ron rubbed the sore spot. “Right, okay. . . you like girls. You’re so fucking touchy sometimes.”

“You act like you’re the only one that gets a hard-on looking at her.”

“What do want from me?” Ron sighed, wanting to avoid one of Harry’s moods. “I want her. . . so what? It’s not like I can have her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to give you up,” Ron said without hesitation. “Even for her.”

Harry swallowed hard as he stared at him and then reached over to the nightstand for his glasses, obviously feeling exposed without them. He put them on and turned back to Ron, studying him in that silent way he did, making Ron feel as if he was looking into his soul.

“If you could explain. . .”

“This is Hermione we are talking about, she'd never understand.”

“Maybe you’d like it better. . . sex with a woman.”

“Maybe I would. . . but I’ll never know.”

“I’d understand, Ron. . . I really wou--”

“Would you stop trying to be a fucking martyr!” Ron barked, feeling totally sick of the conversation. “I’m not leaving you.”

“If you’re just here for the pity fuck. . .don’t bother,” Harry said, folding his arms and turning so his back was facing Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes, wanting to say that if he ever left him for anything, it’d be because he was a moody pain in the arse. He flopped onto his back and reached for Harry, tugging on his arm until he turned to him.

“Trust me, Harry, it’s not a pity fuck,” Ron said and almost laughed. “Do you know how many people would die to fuck ‘The Boy Who Lived’? I should kiss your feet every morning.”

 

“Shut up, dickhead,” Harry said and shoved at his shoulder. Ron grabbed his hand and jerked him forward, catching him off guard by pouncing on top of him. “Arrgh! Get off me, you prat!”

“Please just give me one chance,” Ron taunted as he leaned down flick his tongue over one of Harry’s nipples, making it tighten. “It’s been a life long dream of mine to suck Harry Potter’s dick.”

“Oh Christ, stop now before I throw up.” Harry gasped and struggled against him. He grabbed Ron’s hair, wrenching his head back when he licked at the muscles on Harry’s stomach. “I said stop or I’ll tell your girlfriend all your dirty secrets.”

“And traumatize the poor girl? You wouldn’t dare,” Ron said and then managed to take the tip of Harry’s erection in his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the slit, making Harry buck upwards despite his struggles. “Oh, I licked the savior of the Wizarding World’s cock. . . I can die happy now.”

Harry burst out laughing and stopped fighting him. “You’re sick and totally fucked, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. . .” he said and Harry’s vice grip on his hair loosened. Unrestrained, Ron leaned down and swallowed his length, letting his teeth scrap lightly against the base, just enough to tease him. Then he released it and glanced up, smiling at the look of need now etched on Harry’s face. “. . . but you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said sincerely and then switched modes by gripping his hair again and arching his hips up towards Ron’s mouth. “Now hurry before Hermione gets up.”

“Oh yes, sir. . .anything for the mighty Harry Potter.”

Ron was rewarded for his efforts by another painful wrench in his hair and an irritated curse from Harry that quickly turned into a choked moan when Ron went down on him in earnest.

 

~*~

 

Ron fought back the urge to grumble as he uttered a spell that caused the towels in front of him to start folding themselves. He felt like his whole life was made of bloody laundry. He’d got so good at it that it ended up being his permanent chore. Where were Hogwarts' House Elves when you needed them? Though, he supposed it wasn’t so bad. There was always the chance of finding the black lace knickers he’d been looking for. A bloke had to have something to hope for.

“Find her knickers in there yet?”

“Bugger off,” Ron snapped, turning around to glower at Harry who was currently flipping mindlessly through the channels on his beloved telly. “Are you reading my mind?”

“Were you thinking about knickers?”

“It’s a violation of my privacy to read my thoughts. . . You’d be a real fuckwit to do it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, not sounding overly concerned about violating Ron’s privacy or being a fuckwit.

Harry was still looking at the screen, changing the scenes so fast Ron didn’t know how he could tell what he was seeing. He didn’t understand Harry’s fascination with the bloody thing anyway. It never responded to commands, but that didn’t stop Ron from shouting suggestions to the actors or game show participants when he did happen to get sucked into something on there.

Bored, knowing Harry could take forever to decide on something to watch, Ron picked up the folded towels to put them away. Like Ron, Hermione was never overly interested in what was on, so they let Harry choose the programs, sensing it was important to him for some unknown reason.

Ron walked down the hallway, pausing for a second to listen to the sound of Hermione’s shower running. The knowledge that she was in there right now, naked, did little to help his sanity. He tried to force himself to ignore the fact that nothing but one measly piece of wood separated him from seeing her and went to the hallway closet with a scowl on his face. He balanced the towels in one arm and jerked open the closet door with such force that it slammed against the wall and he winced, looking back down the hallway to see if Harry noticed.

Harry was still entranced with the telly and Ron put the towels away, then turned to go back, but stopped when he saw the door to the bathroom was ajar. It probably happened when he opened the closet. It wasn’t like Hermione to forget something like locking the door, but she’d been oddly distracted lately and had probably forgotten. Besides, they were all mates; it’s not like he’d spy on her or anything.

He stood staring at that crack between the door and the wall, hearing the rhythm of the shower water echo down the hallway a little louder than before. He glanced once more at Harry and then, unable to control himself, he stepped forward to close the door, telling himself that if he got a small peek, it wasn’t his fault.

With his hand lightly on the doorknob he looked in, allowing himself one second to see her. At first Hermione was nothing but a blur, but as his eyes adjusted to the steam her form became solid behind the glass and a white hot fire speared through Ron that had nothing to do with the moist heat escaping the bathroom.

He watched soap and water slide down her as she dipped her head under the spray and scrubbed at her scalp. Her usually curly hair clung to her body in dark rivers that trailed over her breasts and down her back, hiding some of her nakedness, but not nearly enough. Ron could almost feel the image being burned into his brain, so sharp was his reaction to seeing her. Her skin looked so smooth, her breasts so soft, he could just imagine what they’d feel like in his hands.

He was going to close the door simply because he didn’t need anything else to torture himself over, when she turned, giving him a better view of her front, showing dark nipples and the brown curls between her legs. He squeezed his eyes shut when a tiny shudder seized him. His cock was so hard it hurt, and he thought of adjusting himself inside his jeans, but he couldn’t move.

He frowned in confusion when she rested her foot on the edge of the tub and placed one hand on the wall with her back facing the spray. It almost looked like she was waiting to be fucked and he felt a surge of fear shoot though him, wondering if she’d seen him. His panic was so intense that he didn’t notice her other hand slide between her legs until she shifted against her fingers.

Oh fuck! She was touching herself.

Ron couldn’t breathe. He had completely lost the ability as he watched her toss her head back in ecstasy. A thousand feelings surged through him at once, each one overlapping the other until they canceled themselves out and left Ron with one stunning revelation. Hermione was masturbating and she was enjoying it. She had never struck him as an overly sexual person, but that impression changed instantly and he strained to see more of what she was doing. Her hips moved against her hand, the water beat against her back and it wasn’t long before she shuddered and her hips jerked forward. She was totally silent, but Ron knew an orgasm when he saw one.

He hadn’t thought girls could come so fast, hell, even he couldn’t come that fast, maybe if he was really randy, but even then. . .

He was still pondering it as Hermione leaned over and rested her head against the tile. He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly, her breasts, partially hidden by her hair, jiggling with the effort as she gained her breath back. And then, stunned, he watched her fingers slip past her curls once more and she was touching herself all over again.

“Oh my God,” he whispered out loud, unable to choke it back.

His senses went into overload and it was too much. His jeans were biting into his erection and it was fucking painful. He simply couldn’t bear it anymore and he turned to leave, running smack into Harry. He would have shouted in surprise if Harry’s hand hadn’t instantly clamped over his mouth with the reflexes of a natural born seeker. Ron looked down at him, wide-eyed, and Harry stared back, his green eyes sharp and penetrating. Once again, Ron got the nagging feeling that Harry was reading his mind, but the surge of lust that had washed over him was so intense that he didn’t even care that he’d been caught spying.

Harry removed his hand and Ron seized him, jerking him towards their room. Once inside, Ron struggled with his shirt, tugging it ungracefully over his head.

“Lock it,” he said, looking pleadingly at Harry who was still standing at the door. “Please, mate, I’ll make it up to you.”

Harry considered him for one moment before he pulled the door shut with a click and took out his wand to set a locking charm on it. Ron didn’t stay to watch him, he had already dashed to the bathroom, turned on the shower and was hopping on one foot, trying to pull off his jeans when Harry walked in.

Ron nearly tripped as he attacked him, leaning down to push his shirt up and dragging his tongue over Harry’s stomach up to the center of his chest, stopping to bite his nipple harder than he normally would, making Harry’s knees buckle. Ron’s hands were shaking; his breath was coming in short pants. He pulled at Harry’s trousers, pushing them past his hips. Harry moaned when Ron grabbed his bare arse and bent his knees so that their cocks slid against each other. If he wasn’t careful, Ron knew he could come from just that simple contact. His nerves were raw, his cock was aching, the sound of the shower just magnified his reaction and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to hear the water running again without thinking of Hermione.

Harry struggled with the rest of his clothes and then followed Ron into the shower, pushing them both underneath the spray. Their mouths met in fierce, open-mouthed kisses. Harry’s body, all hard angles and compact strength, was pressed against his, and again Ron found himself thinking of Hermione and her soft curves, craving them with every raspy breath.

Neither of them seemed to know where to touch first, vaguely reminding Ron of stolen moments in the Quidditch changing room when they’d been nothing but flailing limbs and clumsy kisses. As fond as Ron was of those memories, he was too desperate right now to relive them. He urged Harry towards the back of the shower, and leaned down to bite and suck at his shoulder, not caring if he left a mark.

“Turn around,” he growled and Harry did, splaying his hands on the wall just the way Hermione had. A fresh surge of lust poured over Ron as he stared at Harry’s muscled back. “Damn. . . I love you like this. You look so good.”

Ron ran one hand up from the base of Harry’s spine, tracing the arch of his back until his fingers curled into the hair that brushed the nape of his neck. Harry’s breathing was harsh and erratic as his cheek pressed against the tile, the tension and sexual excitement was pouring off him, mingling with Ron’s until the air was thick with it.

“Do it,” Harry whispered, licking his lips. “What are you waiting for?”

In truth, Ron was trying to get himself under control. The lust was ripping through him, blocking out sanity and he couldn’t fuck Harry like that, knowing that he’d do nothing but spur it on.

“What did you see?” Harry prodded, and gasped when Ron’s grip in his hair grew tighter, biting into the skin of his neck. “What was she doing?”

“She was touching herself.” Ron groaned and pressed himself against Harry until his cock rested firmly against the small of his back. “And she liked it. . .”

A shudder ran through Harry and he squeezed his eyes shut. Ron couldn’t resist leaning down to run his tongue over his ear and then describing exactly what Hermione had looked like with her hips thrusting against her hand, practically begging to be fucked.

Harry reached for Ron’s other hand, bringing it to his lips. Ron groaned, and his cock twitched in jealously as Harry sucked on two of his fingers, making sure to slick the entire length of each one and then releasing them.

“Stop teasing and fuck me, you prat,” Harry demanded in a voice harsh with hunger. “Do it now before I send you to your girlfriend instead.”

Ron slipped his spit-slicked fingers between Harry’s muscled arse cheeks to probe at his entrance. He pushed one and then two fingers inside him, slowly stretching him, making Harry gasp and thrust impatiently back against his hand.

“Now, Ron!”

“You’re not ready,” Ron groaned, wishing he remembered to bring something to help. “I forgot the lube.”

“Use soap.”

Against his better judgment, Ron grabbed the soap, working it into a lather using only one hand, a skill he mastered before they’d discovered store bought lubrication late in their seventh year. Until then, Harry’s propensity towards pain had played in their favor. Ron covered himself with it, groaning as his erection slipped through his soap-slicked hand. He gripped Harry’s hips, pulling him closer as his cock pressed at his entrance and then slipped past the tight ring of muscle and pushed inside him.

Harry hissed in pain but Ron couldn’t stop, he was drowning in the feel of him so hot and tight, clamping down around him. The image of Hermione was sharp in his mind and he laced his fingers into the raven hair at the base of Harry’s neck once more, using his other hand to grip at his slim hips as he drove into him.

“Oh shit, yes. . .” Harry said with a choked moan, as he took one hand off the wall to wrap it around his erection. “Fuck, don’t stop. . .” Ron thrust into him deeper. “Yes. . .like that. . .harder. . . Oh God. . ”

Amazing surges of heat poured over Ron as he buried himself completely in Harry and it crumpled the rest of his sanity. He started fucking him recklessly, watching as Harry stroked himself, remembering what Hermione had looked like with her head thrown back and her fingers between her legs. The coil of pleasure wound tighter in his stomach, and Ron had to grit his teeth against the need for release that was welling up inside him, urging him to go harder, faster, making him ram into Harry until Ron felt him tense beneath him, gasping and shaking with the force of his orgasm. Harry moaned his name while still clenching around him, and the sensations were too overwhelming. Ron couldn’t help but fall into the sea of abyss as all his passion sprang free at once and he emptied himself in Harry, fucking him erratically in rhythm to the pulse of his release until he was totally spent.

The moist heat from the shower, the exquisite torture of going from tense to satisfied in one heart stopping moment; it all must have got to him because Ron felt like he might pass out. He pulled out of Harry to slide to the floor, letting his head rest on his knees as he watched the water go down the drain. Shame was already surging through him, and he couldn’t bear to look at Harry.

“Ron, it’s okay,” Harry whispered, obviously sensing his distress as he too slid down to sit on the shower floor. “It’s okay to want her. . . I think about her all the time.”

“Not like this. . . Not so extreme. It’s out of control.” Ron sighed and squeezed his eyes shut against the guilt. “Are you okay?” he asked, knowing he’d been pretty rough.

“Fine. I’m durable. . . You know that.”

That didn’t make Ron feel any better; if anything, it made him feel worse. He tried not to lose control like that. Somewhere along the way, the lines of love and pain had got crossed in Harry’s mind so that he never truly enjoyed pleasure unless he was punished a little for it. It wasn’t healthy and Ron knew it. He hated that he fed into it so easily. He felt like his whole world was spiraling madly out of control.

“Maybe I need to move out,” Ron whispered before he could stop himself. “Move back to the Burrow for a little while.”

“Ron, no. . . why?” Harry asked, sounding stricken.

“I can’t live with her, Harry. She’s driving me mad.”

“Why don’t we just tell her. . . We’ll tell her everything.”

“No way!” Ron gasped, finally lifting his head to stare at Harry. “I don’t want her to know, Harry. I don’t want her to see us like that. . .She’d never understand.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t be as shocked as you think. The Muggle world isn’t nearly as strict about these things. . . It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You always say that, but it is. . . No one else would understand. Hell, I don’t even understand most of the time,” Ron whispered and let his head fall back against his arms, the old insecurities rising up so that he wondering, for what had to be the millionth time, what the hell was wrong with him. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t like girls too. . .At least then I could just be a flaming poof and be done with it.”

Harry started laughing and Ron turned his head to glare at him. “You think it’s funny?”

“I just like the idea of you as a flaming poof. . . kind of exciting.”

“Oi, shut up,” Ron said, pushing at Harry.

“You do have an odd obsession with knickers,” Harry went on, still smiling. “It’s okay, Ron, you can tell me. . . Shall we turn in your Auror robes and set you up as Gigi, the amazing transvestite go-go dancer. . . With those long legs you’d be a hit.”

“Jesus, where do you come up with these things?” he asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged, and then stood up. “I’m going back out there before your girlfriend comes to look for us.”

Ron nodded. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

It wasn’t until after Harry left Ron realized that he forgot to ask what a transvestite was, but thought some more about it and decided he was better off not knowing.

Hermione knew she was really badly off when not even a book could distract her. Miserable and frustrated, she lay on her side, staring at the wall of her bedroom, trying to talk herself into doing something. It was still early and she could go watch the telly with the boys, but she didn’t feel like it. Ron had been a prat lately, and it wasn’t helping her already sour mood.

She worked late most nights, using her problems at home as an excuse to put in extra time at her job as a researcher for the Department of Mysteries, but today her boss had insisted she go home before she burned out. So here she was, stuck with nothing to do.

A knock sounded on her door and she didn’t even turn, just laid there in nothing but Harry’s shirt, which covered very little and stretched tightly over her breasts. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if Ron or Harry would notice. She could lay there naked if she wanted to.

“Come in.”

The door opened, but there was a pause long enough to warrant Hermione glancing over her shoulder to see Harry staring at her bare legs and knickers that were visible since his shirt had ridden up to her hips. He met her eyes, arching an eyebrow.

“Nice shirt,” he said, clearing his throat and letting his eyes wander down her body once more.

“Thanks,” Hermione sighed and then turned back to look at the wall. “You don’t mind if I borrow it, do you? Ron told me not to touch his.”

“Did he?”

“He said my perfume smelled and gave him a headache,” Hermione mumbled, feeling the hurt again. He’d been rather nasty about the whole thing. “And I certainly wouldn’t want to give Ron a headache, now would I?”

“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Harry started, and Hermione felt the mattress dip as he sat down next to her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound rude.”

Hermione snorted in disbelief and continued to stare at the wall. Harry was silent and eventually it made her uneasy. She turned to him, propping herself up on one elbow and resting her head in her hand.

“What can I do for you, Harry?”

Harry looked at her imploringly. “I was hoping you’d tell me why you’ve been so upset lately.”

Hermione closed her eyes, surprised to find that she was near tears. Wanting a distraction, she rolled onto her back and blinked up at the ceiling. She was sick of the whole thing, and Harry gave her the impression that he already knew, so she blurted it out before she could stop herself.

“How long have you been fucking Ron?”

Harry sucked in sharp breath, but whether it was from her harsh language or her knowledge of their relationship, she didn’t know. He didn’t answer her, so she turned her head to glare at him. “Well?”

“A while. . .since the end of sixth year. . . after Hagrid die--” Harry choked and looked away, not able to finish the thought. “. . .after everything. . .we were upset and it just happened. I’m sorry.”

Hermione was finding it hard to stay mad at Harry when faced with the horrible memory of Hagrid’s death. She could certainly see how that could happen. They’d all been devastated when he was killed. It still didn’t stop the hurt and a selfish part of her wanted to say that she had loved Hagrid just as much as them. She could have used some comfort at that time too.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

“Ron,” Harry said honestly. “He didn’t want you to know. I think he’s worried you might think of him differently. Like he’s not a man or something.”

“Oh, how stupid,” Hermione snapped, annoyed. “Like that has anything to do with it.”

Harry chuckled, looking back at her. “Well, you know, he gets an idea in his head and it’s hard to break him of it.”

“And you two thought you could just keep it from me forever. . . that I wouldn’t notice?” Hermione said, feeling the irritation build back up. “At what point did I give you the impression that I’m thick?”

“How did you find out?”

Hermione immediately turned back to the wall when she felt a blush heat up her face. The memory of the two of them together sent a surge of longing through her. She’d been able to thinking about nothing but that night for the last three weeks.

“Hermione?”

She took a breath, willing her heart rate to slow back to normal. “I saw you.”

Harry was quiet again, and Hermione could almost feel his eyes burning into her back, but she wasn’t going to take the bait. She simply couldn’t look at him. He’d see too much in her, she was sure of it.

“How much did you see?” he asked finally.

“I saw enough.”

“Did it bother you?”

“Yes, it bothered me,” Hermione said, and turned to him in spite of herself. “How would you feel if you found out I was shagging Ron behind your back. . .Wouldn’t you feel left out? I’m nothing but a third wheel. I might as well move out and leave you to it.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at her, seemingly unmoved by her speech. “Do you want to shag Ron?”

“What? No. . . I was just using it as an example,” Hermione stuttered, feeling her face heat up. “Besides, I don’t have the equipment to shag Ron. Not exactly his type, am I?”

“You think Ron only has one type?”

Hermione paused, catching something in his voice and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Doesn’t he?”

“No, Hermione, he definitely has more than one type. . . we both do,” Harry said, and then looked once more at her bum and bare legs. “And for what it’s worth. . .I think you have very nice equipment.”

“Oh,” Hermione squeaked, feeling her heart rate rise under Harry’s gaze, being very aware of just how penetrating his green eyes were and how very little she was wearing. Unconsciously, she tugged on his shirt, covering her knickers for the first time. “Well, it doesn’t make a difference. You two are obviously involved and I wouldn’t want to break that up. You looked happy.”

“You think so?”

Harry was still staring at her and something in his look compelled her to answer honestly. “Yes, you did. . . You looked beautiful together. Maybe that’s why I’m so jealous.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, making Hermione want to squirm. “Did you enjoy watching us, Hermione?”

She went to turn, knowing how obvious she must be by now, but Harry grabbed her shoulder, holding her to the bed. “Let me go, Harry,” she pleaded, and squeezed her eyes shut against the shock of pleasure that went through her from his touch.

“How many times have you spied on us?”

“None, just the once. . .I swear,” Hermione said, feeling panicked and exposed. “I haven’t gone back. . .I haven’t.”

“But you wanted to. . .”

“But I haven’t,” she said again, licking her lips in nervousness and hoping Harry believed her. “I’d never invade your privacy like that.”

Harry let her go and Hermione relaxed, taking a deep breath. Her face and neck felt like they were on fire, they burned so badly in embarrassment. She instantly turned back towards the wall, knowing it was cowardly, but not caring. He stood up and Hermione’s worst fears were confirmed. He was horrified. She had said too much.

Harry stopped at the door and once again, Hermione could feel his eyes on her. “I’ll leave the door open tonight.”

Icy-hot shock slammed into her and Hermione couldn’t breathe. She turned to Harry wide-eyed, looking for signs that he was joking, but saw he was dead serious. She wanted to say something, but found she was speechless and was left gaping at him.

Harry smiled, and his eyes flicked once more at her exposed body before he looked back up. “Oh, and nice knickers. . . but I always thought black was more your color.”

Hermione frowned, feeling the statement was somewhat cryptic but he was gone before she could ask him about it.

 

~*~

 

Ron wished Harry would just leave him alone and go to sleep. He was so miserable, even sex didn’t sound appealing. He tried twice to push Harry off him when he’d crawled in his bed, but he wasn’t getting the point.

“I’m not in the mood. . . I have a headache.” Harry burst out laughing and that didn’t help. Ron turned back to glare. “I do!”

“A headache?” Harry said, trying and failing to hold a straight face. “Maybe it’s from Hermione’s perfume.”

“She told you that? I can’t believe her,” Ron snapped, feeling defensive. “I was sick of her walking around half naked all the time. She should get some normal nightdresses. . . like the kind my mum wears.”

Harry pulled a horrified face and then smiled, choking back the rest of his laughter. “Well, your plan backfired. Now she’s wearing my shirts and looking damned good in them.”

Harry’s shirts were much smaller than his. Ron could just imagine what she looked like with the material tight across her breasts and hips. It wouldn’t even take skill to look at her knickers.

“Don’t you want to know what color she was wearing tonight?” Harry asked, as if reading his mind.

“I don’t care.”

“Too bad. . .because I got quite an eyeful. The shirt didn’t even cover them. It was bunched up to her waist so I could see that curve of her hip. . .You know, when she lays on her side and it just slopes down.” Harry used one hand to demonstrate to curve. “And her arse. . . it’s so firm and roun--”

“Are trying to irritate me?”

“No, I’m trying to get shagged,” Harry said, glancing at his trousers and smiling when he saw Ron was hard from his description. “Or maybe I ought to go see if Hermione could help me out.”

Harry actually went to get off the bed and Ron reached out to grab his hand before he could. He’d been acting strangely and Ron didn’t put it past him to go knock on her door a second time tonight. The first time had put him on edge, wondering what the two of them had spent so much time talking about all alone in her room.

“Fine,” Ron said, unbuttoning his trousers that were painfully tight despite his attempts to avoid such a condition.

Harry grinned and pushed Ron’s hands away to lower the zip himself. He leaned over and pushed Ron shirt up, running his lips over his stomach. Harry used his tongue to trace over the muscles there, making them clench as shots of desire shot through Ron. Smiling from his reaction, Harry met his eyes and then crawled over him, trailing kisses up towards his chest. Ron pulled his shirt off so it wouldn’t get in the way and Harry followed suit, getting on his knees to tug his green shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.

Seeing Harry shirtless never failed to get a reaction out of Ron, and he was starting to wonder what he’d been so irritated about as he leaned up and captured Harry’s lips, warm, soft lips that parted under his with a breathy sigh. Ron laced his fingers into his messy hair and fell back against the pillow with him, growling as Harry boldly thrust his tongue in his mouth. The feel of Harry’s bare skin against his furthered his arousal and Ron reached down to grab his arse, forcing their bodies tightly together as he arched his hips up and they both moaned from the friction.

Harry’s hand slipped past Ron's open trousers and underneath the lining of his boxer shorts. He grabbed his cock and stroked down the length of it.

Ron groaned. “Oh fuck.”

“You like that?”

“Yup,” Ron said, using his grip in Harry’s hair to push his head down and thrust up into his hand at the same time, making his intention very clear. “Suck it.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, smirking. “Why should I?”

“Because you started it.”

It must have been a good enough reason, because Harry leaned down and ran his mouth over Ron’s jaw and down to his neck. His hand slid down Ron’s side, curving to his hip and pushing his trousers and shorts down far enough that Ron’s erection was freed. Harry’s lips were on his stomach again, and Harry was stroking him, his hand sliding up and down Ron’s length, pumping it in that perfect rhythm that always drove him wild.

Ron’s whole body was tense, anticipating that first warm and wet contact of Harry’s mouth. He was tempted to close his eyes, but he wanted to watch. He liked the way Harry’s eyes looked, clouded with passion and so bare without his glasses. He lifted his head, but frowned when he saw that Harry wasn’t looking at him at all, but was poised over his cock, staring towards the door. . . The open door.

Ron felt a trickle in his spine, that spark of fear he’d learned to trust after the last few years of war. He jerked from underneath Harry and reached to pull up his trousers.

“Ron, wha--?”

Ron wasn’t listening, his eyes were on the door, and he saw it. A flicker of movement that would be easy to miss if he didn’t spend ten hours a day in Auror training, working on catching even the most subtle signs of danger.

He practically fell to the floor with his effort to disentangle himself from Harry and get his trousers up at the same time. Harry was saying something else, but Ron wasn’t hearing. He was already out the door, shirtless, with the button to his trousers undone and the zip still half way down.

There was no noise, but that didn’t make a difference, he dashed across the flat and slammed his hand against Hermione’s door. It wasn’t even shut all the way and Hermione screamed, jumping away from the door when it flew open and hit the wall. She was wide-eyed and flushed as she stared up at him, looking terrified and very guilty.

“Where were you just now?”

“No-nowhere. . ." Hermione stuttered.

She looked past his shoulder, obviously hoping for Harry to rescue her, but Ron centered himself in the doorway, using his bulk to block her view into the hallway.

“I saw you, Hermione.”

She took a deep breath and pulled herself together with remarkable ease. “I was going to get a drink of water.”

“And you just happened to stop to take a peek into our bedroom?” Ron asked, feeling the sinking horror for the first time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione said haughtily, folding her arms over her chest and leveling her gaze coolly at him.

His fear, his embarrassment, the absolute terror of knowing what Hermione saw, it all collided together, turned into a boiling ball of fury and he rounded on her. “DON’T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME!”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide and for a moment she cowered under his rage, but just as quickly she drew herself back up to her full height, looking every bit as intimidating, despite her small stature.

“Don’t you DARE yell at me!” Hermione shot back, poking her finger sharply into his bare chest. “I’m not the one sneaking around. I’m not the one keeping secrets when we swore we would tell each other everything!”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

Hermione laughed bitterly. “Yes, obviously not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron barked, feeling his ears burn in shame. “Are you making fun of me?”

Hermione laughed. “Unlike others, I don’t resort to such childish antics. . . Trust me, Ron, if I was going to make fun of you, you’d know it.”

Ron took a step away from the door to tower over Hermione, for what reason he didn’t know, but a hand landed on his shoulder before he could find out. He turned to Harry; expecting to see him looking just as horrified, but found that he was annoyingly calm.

“Come on,” Harry said, pulling on his arm when he refused to move. “We’ll discuss everything after you’ve calmed down.”

Ron thought of arguing, but it would have been pointless, because he was anything but calm. His hands were shaking with emotion and he didn’t trust himself to be around Hermione for a second longer so he turned to follow Harry.

“Sit,” Harry ordered when they reached the dining room, and obediently Ron sat at the table.

He stared numbly at the wood on the table, willing himself not to look back towards Hermione who was still standing in the doorway of her room. If things weren’t bad enough, he found that he was dangerously near tears and he could have kissed Harry when he returned from the kitchen and set a full glass of whiskey down in front of him. Ron took such a big gulp he nearly choked, making his eyes sting as it burned down his throat.

He took two more big drinks and was feeling the first stirrings of intoxication work through his veins when he noticed that Harry had gone back to Hermione and their voices were drifting down the hallway.

“I’m not going out there,” Hermione said shrilly, sounding far less composed than she’d been with Ron. “I think he almost hit me!”

“Ron would never hurt you,” Harry said smoothly. “You know he wouldn’t.”

“He’s gone mad. . . You saw him.”

“He’s upset. . . You’re important to him. That’s why he’s acting like that.”

Hermione snorted in disbelief and that stung Ron worst than anything. He took another drink, using the burn of it as a distraction. He rested his head on his arm, letting himself feel nothing but the blossoming of fire that he could sense stirring inside him. Getting thoroughly pissed sounded good to him.

A few minutes later, Hermione sat down at the table with a huff of irritation. Not wanting to face her just yet, Ron turned his head and looked through the gap between his arm and the table to stare down at her feet, which were rather pretty when he thought about it. His gaze rose higher, up the curve of her calf to her thighs that were totally bare with the exception of a small space at the top that was covered by Harry’s shirt. Instantly, lust uncoiled inside him. His body reacted so sharply he turned away again.

“Here,” Harry said setting down another glass on the table, obviously for Hermione. “Drink. . .It’ll help your nerves.”

Ron was waiting to hear an argument, but Hermione picked up the glass and drank from it. “This stuff is dreadful,” she choked, taking another drink and wheezing enough that Harry patted her back. “What do you two see in it?”

“It grows on you,” Harry said, sounding amused. “Ron, you okay, mate?”

Ron lifted his head, more to see Hermione drinking whiskey than anything else. She carefully avoided his eyes and another stab of hurt went through him. He turned to Harry instead, seeing that he still had his shirt off and was also drinking whiskey and casually looking at him over the rim of his glass. His glasses were back on, and he looked really good in them. The sinewy muscles in his arms seemed to stand out and Ron felt another pulse of desire surge through him. He groaned, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes as he took another drink and dropped his head back to the table. Christ, he was so fucked up. His life was over and his mind was still in the gutter.

“So. . .” Harry said, when Hermione choked down another drink. “We need to talk this out. . . I refuse to let this come between us. We’ve been through too damn much to have this be what tears us apart.”

“I’m not the one keeping secrets,” Hermione started out defensively.

“Hermione,” Harry said in a reprimanding voice. “I’ll admit that Ron and I were wrong for not telling you about us, but you aren’t entirely guilt free either.”

Curious, Ron lifted his head and looked at Hermione seeing that she had blushed and looked towards the ground. Ron turned to Harry arching an eyebrow questioningly.

“Ron, Hermione has a confession,” Harry said solemnly, sparing one last glance at Hermione before he took a deep breath and turned back to Ron. “She was watching us on purpose.”

All the air whooshed out of Ron and he stared at Harry, horrified. “What?”

“I left the door open for her,” Harry said, as though he hadn’t just lost his mind.

“You did what?” He said, standing up and knocking his chair to the ground before he rounded on Hermione. “You were spying on us?!”

“I. . . no. . . It wasn’t exactly spying,” Hermione said, glaring at Harry in betrayal.

“Then what would you call it?” Ron said as his breathing became irregular in panic. “What did you see? Why did you. . . Oh God! How could you!”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered and covered her face with her hands. “I wouldn’t have. . . I swear, Ron, but Harry told me he was leaving the door open and I just. . .”

“Are you telling me you got off on it?” Ron said incredulously, backing up and nearly tripping over the fallen chair. “I can’t tell you how FUCKED that is.”

That seemed to rouse something in Hermione, because she lifted her head and glared at him defensively. “Oh, you would think that! It’s fine for men to enjoy watching two women together. . .but if a woman wants to watch two men, then it’s just wrong. . . Society is always suppress--”

“Hello?!” Ron said, throwing his hands up and stopping her speech. “You were watching us. . . You expect me not to be fucked off about that?”

“Actually, before you get too defensive,” Harry said, as he took another sip of his drink and looked up at both of them. “Ron has a confession too.”

Ron turned to him, frowning. “I do?”

“Ron saw you in the shower,” Harry said, sparing only one apologetic look in his direction before he looked squarely at Hermione. “He watched you masturbating.”

Hermione gasped in horror and Ron gaped at Harry, feeling all the blood drain from his face. He couldn’t believe he had just said that. Harry had gone totally, barking, raving mad.

“I didn’t,” Ron said once he found his voice. “I mean, I-I did. . . but it was an accident.”

“An accident?” Hermione said, stepping from around the table and hitting his chest hard enough to make him stumble. “An accident!! Ronald Weasley! How could you? You – you sick, perverted, twisted--”

“Me! What about you, little Miss Witches’ rights, sneaking around the house at all hours of the night to watch us fucking,” Ron yelled back, grabbing her hands when they continued to pound at his chest and arms. “It’s not my fault you left the door open. . . For all I know, you did it on purpose. You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“On purpose! Why would I do that? I live with a couple of poofs,” Hermione said, jerking her arms from his grasp and throwing them up in fury. “It’s not like they’d care!”

“Poofs!” Ron said, recoiling from the insult. “You see. . .you see, Harry. I told you! I told you she’d be like this.”

“I could walk around the house naked and you wouldn’t notice!”

That snapped Ron’s attention back and he made a point to look leeringly at her in nothing but Harry’s shirt, which was far too tight and just inches from showing her knickers for all to see. “You might as well, it’s not like you leave a lot to the imagination.”

“What about you! Look at both of you,” Hermione said, gesturing wildly to both Ron and Harry. “You hardly ever wear shirts. . .but that’s okay, right, because you’re men! Men are allowed to do anything they want, but if a woman. . . “

“Oh Christ, don’t start with this shit.” Ron rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “You’re always crying over this. . . Everything is so unfair because you’re a woman. I’m sick of hearing it!”

“You are a pig and it’s a good thing you are a poof because no woman would take you!”

“Is that right?” Ron said, reeling in hurt and anger, feeling like a wild fire had surged through his veins. “Well, that’s not the case with you, is it? Just about any man would take you. . . Viktor Krum, Terry. . I bet you just loved the attention. Tell me, how many others have you fucked?”

Hermione gasped. “Are you calling me a slag?”

“You said it,” Ron said childishly, turning away from her to hide the pain he was feeling. “I know you fucked Boot. He bragged to just about any bloke who would listen that he got into Hermione Granger’s knickers.”

Hermione choked back another gasp of outrage and took a step toward him, obviously ready to lash out again.

“Wait,” Harry said, finally standing up and moving between them. “Before you start again. . . I have a confession too.” He took a deep breath and looked shakily between both of them. “I put Venus Star Dust in all our drinks.”

Silence hung in the room after his statement and it took a bit before Ron found his voice.

“You put what in our drinks?” he whispered, looking wide-eyed at Harry and then back to Hermione, whose hands had flown to her mouth, obviously recognizing what he was talking about.

“Venus Star Dust. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac,” Harry went on, looking hesitant. “But it can cause hostility if there’s nowhere to slake the lust. . . So, you know. . . don’t say anything you’ll regret while you two work it all out.”

Instantly, Ron’s anger drained out of him, as if the knowledge alone was enough to switch the gears in his brain. He’d felt the lust earlier, had noticed its effect when he looked at Harry and Hermione, but now he was nearly blinded with it as he glanced down at his empty glass.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, backing up in earnest until he was flattened against the wall in the dining room. “What did you do?”

“Ron, we can’t go on like this,” Harry said imploringly as he walked towards him and Ron saw that his eyes were the purest shade of green, just a touch darker than usual because his pupils had dilated from the drugs. “This is tearing us apart. You are both so bloody stubborn. I couldn’t think of another way.”

Ron was only half hearing him. Unwillingly, his eyes wandered once again to Harry’s chest, seeing the faint outline of muscles there and the thin trail of hair on his stomach that lead below his trousers.

“Ron?”

“Don’t touch me,” he gasped, realizing he hardly cared if Hermione was watching or not, he wanted Harry that badly. “Stay away from me.”

“Fine.” Harry turned from him and walked towards Hermione, whose eyes were darting back and forth between them. She licked her lips nervously when he stopped in front of her. “Do you want us to walk away, Hermione?”

Hermione looked over his shoulder and met Ron’s eyes. He felt another surge of desire rush though him, and he wanted so badly to take everything back. To beg for her forgiveness for all the awful things he’d said to her, but he was speechless. He couldn’t do anything but stare at her, hoping she understood.

She turned back to Harry, staring up at him with wide-eyes, and then she reached around him, grabbed her drink and swallowed the last of it. “I don’t want you to go,” she wheezed, choking on the last bit of laced whiskey.

Ron couldn’t see Harry’s face, but he could have sworn the bastard was smiling. Hermione squeaked in surprise when Harry reached out and pulled her to him. In that moment the reality of everything hit him and Ron felt a fresh surge of panic run over him.

“What are you doing?” he said wildly, taking a step away from the wall.

Harry turned back to him, giving him a calculated look that made Ron think the Sorting Hat had got it wrong. The prick should have been in Slytherin.

His suspicions were confirmed when Harry said, “I’m kissing your girlfriend.”

Then he did just that, lowering his mouth to Hermione’s and kissing her. It wasn’t a peck either, his mouth moved over hers and Ron caught a glimpse of his tongue sliding into her mouth. Hermione mewed in acceptance, parting her lips and taking all that Harry had to give.

Envy surged through Ron as he watched. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears and strangely, he was so enthralled, he couldn’t decide which of the two he was jealous of. Hermione's hands flew to Harry’s shoulders, gripping them for support as he deepened the kiss, groaning and devouring her lips. Ron got the distinct impression that he’d fallen victim to his own plan. He’d been with Harry enough times to know the moment he lost control and it must have been true, because Harry wrenched his mouth away from hers a second later, breathing heavily.

“Watch,” Harry said to Hermione and moved behind her so that her back was flush against his chest and they were both staring at Ron. “He’s a bit a slow on the uptake, but once you get him. . . he’s something to behold.”

Ron frowned, not enjoying being talked about as though he wasn’t there. Harry leaned down and ran his lips lightly against Hermione’s neck and instantly she arched into him. Her eyes closed for just a second, before she opened them and stared back at him again. Her look made Ron nervous, with her heavily lidded brown eyes sparkling in wonder and lingering hurt. Instead he found himself watching Harry’s hands as they slipped underneath the shirt Hermione was wearing, sliding up to her stomach and then lifting the material, raising it slowly past her thighs and over her hips.

“Holy shit,” Ron rasped, feeling as though his heart had slammed into his ribs. His chest was so tight with emotion and need that he stumbled forward. “Christ, you're beautiful and I love you and I’m sorry,” he said in one breath as he found himself directly in front of Hermione. Desperately, he looked to Harry. “Is this okay. . . please say it’s okay.”

“It’s okay, Ron.” Harry chuckled and then leaned down to whisper to Hermione, who looked a little stunned by Ron’s sudden change of attitude. “He likes your knickers.”

“My knickers?” Hermione laughed and reached out to Ron, letting her fingers trail softly through his hair, brushing the stray locks off his forehead. “Is that true?”

It was true, but they weren’t just any knickers. She was wearing the black lace knickers he’d done countless loads of laundry in hopes of seeing again and they looked a thousand times better on her than he had imagined. They were cut high, and made her legs seem so long and shapely despite her relatively short height, the dark material standing out starkly against her skin, making it look that much more vibrant.

“I don’t think you’re a slag,” he said shakily, taking her hand from his hair and kissing the inside of her wrist, savoring the feel of her skin against his lips. “And I. . .I don’t think your perfume stinks and you can wear my shirts whenever you like. . .and, bugger, I’m sorry. . .”

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered, using her other hand to reach up and thread her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, and then she pulled him down until his forehead rested against hers. “I’m sorry too. . . I love you. . .” Hermione turned quickly to peck Harry on the lips. “I love you both.”

Ron’s chest was rising and falling sharply with each heavy breath. Hermione turned back to him, once again resting her forehead against his so that their eyes met and he could see hers were near black, with just the slightest rim of brown showing. His hands were shaking violently, and he tangled them into her wild curls to hide it, letting his thumbs rub gently over the curve of her neck.

Then just like that, he was kissing her, feeling her soft lips part under his with a surrendering moan. Ron drank her in, letting his tongue delve into her mouth to explore its wet depths and he growled when she responded to him. Her body arched into his and he could feel her nipples, pebble hard through Harry’s shirt, pressed against his naked chest. His senses came alive as a surge of white-hot fire poured over his body and he was wild with it.

Ron wanted to feel everything all at once. He pulled away from Hermione only to lean over her and kiss Harry with even more force and Harry kissed him back just as harshly, biting at his bottom lip before he sucked Ron’s tongue into his mouth.

Hermione’s lips latched onto his neck, her tongue trailed up to his ear, leaving fire in its wake. His heightened senses made his skin so sensitive that just the slightest touch sent darts of pleasure straight to his cock. He pulled away from Harry, grasping for breath, only to have Harry pull him back down for another kiss.

“I can’t take it,” Ron moaned against his mouth as he tried to resist the urge to lose himself once more. “I’m dying. It’s too much. . . and shit, she feels good. Doesn’t she feel good?”

Ron knew he was rambling, could feel that he was half out of his mind with lust, but it didn’t matter. His fingers were still tangled in Hermione’s hair and he tilted her head back once more. Ron leaned down to kiss her, licking boldly at her lips and forcing her to open for him again. She made a mewing noise in the back of her throat and Ron clasped her more tightly to him, so that his arousal was pressed firmly against Hermione’s stomach and she moaned again. He wanted so badly to explore her, to run his lips over every part of her silky skin, but he was blinded by his own need.

“Here,” Harry said, coming from behind Hermione to stand next to Ron and casually reached inside the trousers that were still unbuttoned. “Maybe we ought to take care of you first.”

Ron’s breath hissed out of him and he moaned into Hermione’s mouth as Harry touched him. He didn’t care that she was watching. It seemed that his inhibitions had flown straight out the window so that it all felt very right.

Harry dropped to his knees, kneeling between Ron and Hermione. He must have known how very desperate Ron was because he freed him and wrapped his mouth around his erection without prompting.

Ron gasped, pulling away from Hermione to look down at Harry, seeing his lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him while his hands pumped up and down his length. Ron’s knees nearly buckled from the spiraling pleasure that went through him. His mouth fell open in a silent moan and Hermione took advantage of his position to draw him back down for a kiss. She slipped her tongue past his open lips and he had no choice but to cling to her as she squirmed against him. He could feel her mounting desire, could hear it in the little noises she was making in the back of her throat.

Ron slipped his hands underneath her shirt, touching the silky skin on her stomach, and then one hand went higher to cup her breast, feeling its soft weight against his palm as his thumb ran over her nipple.

“Touch me,” Hermione moaned, freeing his lips and trailing kisses down his jaw.

“S-show me how,” Ron whispered, being too far gone to feel embarrassed. “Show me how you do it.”

Hermione’s fingers intertwined with his, and together their hands slid past the lining of her knickers. Ron moaned again when his fingers breached her curls and touched her sex for the first time.

“You’re wet.”

“Mmm hmm,” Hermione hummed as she captured his lips for brief kiss and then spoke against his mouth. “Now follow what I do. . . Yes, just there. Do you feel that? Touch me there. . . ”

“Like that?”

“Yes. . . Oh God, just like that,” Hermione moaned as her head fell back and her hips bucked against his hand. “Just keep doing that.”

A wild sense of power and lust surged through Ron when he felt her respond to his touch. Her lips parted in awe as he rubbed the tiny nub she’d guided him to. He moved his fingers faster as her breathing became harsh. Obviously satisfied with his progress, her hand slipped from inside her knickers and Ron bucked against Harry when Hermione brought her fingers to his mouth, smearing her taste against his lips.

His eyes snapped open, and he saw Hermione’s gaze trained on his mouth as she trailed her fingers slowly over his lips. When she met his eyes, he sucked the two fingers into his mouth, tasting her desire and watching her eyes darken to a deep smoldering brown. The tangy taste of sex and Hermione pushed him over the edge. While still frantically touching Hermione he fisted his other hand into Harry’s hair and came violently. Vaguely, he heard Hermione cry out as his release pounded through him, blinding him with its intensity.

He was still trying to gain his breath back when Hermione sank limply to her knees. Through heavy lidded eyes, Ron watched her pull Harry away from him and turn his face to her.

“Let me taste him on you,” she whispered and captured Harry’s lips in a wet, opened mouthed kiss.

Ron could see their tongues brushing against each other as Hermione’s fingers tangled into Harry’s wild hair. Harry growled and clasped her to him.

Even though he’d just came, Ron felt the first stirrings of desire blossom inside of him as Harry pulled Hermione to the ground and covered her body with his while still kissing her passionately. The two of them were moving against each other in such a way, that if they hadn’t had clothes on, Ron was sure they’d be fucking. It was obvious that they were both half out of their mind with lust.

 

It didn’t matter that she’d just climaxed from Ron’s touch, Hermione was lost in sensation as Harry kissed her. She could feel the entire length of him against her, moving and thrusting, searching for more contact and she so wanted to give it to him. Harry’s hands slipped under her shirt, forcing the material up until her breasts were bare. Hermione wrenched her mouth away from Harry’s and pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside.

“Oh yes,” she moaned, arching her back and pressing her breasts more firmly against Harry’s bare chest, loving the feel of his skin against hers. “That feels good.”

Together they rolled over so that Hermione was on top of him, straddling his hips, and instinctually she moved against his hard length that was straining against the material of his trousers. He bucked up against her, silently begging for more, and she complied, moving sensually over him and savoring his long moan as the friction of their lower bodies caused Hermione to ache almost painfully for release once more.

“Shame on you.” Hermione was startled when she felt Ron’s breath against her neck as he got on his knees behind her so that his chest was pressed against her back. “Teasing the poor lad. . . You are bad, Hermione Granger.”

“Not bad. . .” she sighed, leaning back against him as she arched once more against Harry. “Just a little repressed.”

“We’ll have to fix that,” Ron said, looking over her shoulder to Harry, whose eyes had opened, but were still glazed with need. “Won’t we?”

Ron reached around to cup her breasts, his rough thumbs tracing over her puckered nipples as his palms tested their weight. Hermione moaned, tossing her head against Ron’s shoulder and arching back against him, feeling a fresh surge of want when she felt nothing but his bare skin and realizing he’d taken off his trousers. She would have turned to see him, naked in all his glory, but Harry had taken Ron’s cue and sat up. She was trapped between the boys, causing her center to press more tightly against Harry’s erection as Ron placed kisses over her bare shoulder and down her back.

Her moans were muffled against Harry’s mouth when he kissed her, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth as he jerked up against her, making her writhe in need.

The drugs in her system made her skin extra sensitive and it felt like hands were everywhere, touching her, teasing her, leaving tingles and gooseflesh in their wake. When Harry released her mouth to bend down and capture one of her nipples between his lips, Ron was right there, turning her head and swallowing her gasp of pleasure. She was surrounded by strong arms and hard, muscled chests and she reveled in it. She was desperate for another release, but was willing to endure the torture of waiting to savor the feeling of being so thoroughly loved.

“I want to see you, Hermione. . . all of you,” Harry whispered against her neck, licking at the point where it curved to meet her shoulder. “Ron’s seen you. . . I haven’t.”

She nodded without thought, disentangling herself from them to wiggle out of her knickers. Perhaps the drugs lowered her inhibitions, because she didn’t feel even the barest hint of nervousness or shame at being completely bare in front of them, especially when she caught the look in Harry’s eyes, dark emerald green orbs flashing in want and desire.

Harry stood, still looking over her body boldly. He pulled her to him again, kissing her soundly as his hand ran from the curve of her bum all the way up her back until it tangled in her hair. Harry really was a brilliant kisser. He seemed to savor every moment of it, almost treating the small act of love in wonder, clinging to it for fear it would slip through his fingers and his awe was catching.

Her knees felt weak and she sagged against him to the point that he had no choice but to collapse on to one of the chairs still pulled out from the table. When Hermione moved to crawl over him, desperate for any sort of skin to skin contact, he stopped her, forcing her to turn her back to him so that instead of Harry’s green eyes, she was facing Ron’s blue ones and her breath hitched at the look she saw in his indigo gaze. Never had she seen his eyes so dark, so hungry, making him appear almost primal.

He stepped towards her and she stumbled back until she fell onto Harry’s lap, sprawling ungracefully over him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Ron bent over both of them, resting his hands on either side of the chair and Hermione didn’t have to wonder why he seemed to be the one who played the most dominate role between the two men. She moaned under his inspection of her, watching helplessly as his gaze ran down her body.

Then he bent forward, and she thought he might kiss her, but he caught Harry’s lips instead. Trapped, Hermione turned her head to watch as Ron fisted Harry’s messy black hair in one hand and roughly thrust his tongue into his mouth. Harry writhed under the harsh treatment, pushing his hips hard against her so that she could feel his arousal straining against her hip. Ron’s body was reacting just as strongly, and she was unable to stop herself from trailing her fingers over his stomach and touching the hard, solid length of him, feeling the silky skin of his erection hot against her palm as she stroked him. Hermione heard Ron’s muffled moan, but he gripped her wrist before she could continue.

“Hermione, I. . . can’t. . .” Ron stuttered, taking a deep breath and glancing down once more at her naked body. “You can touch me all you want later. I’m too out of it right now. I’ll lose it.”

He bent down to capture her nipple, laving his tongue over it and then sucking it into his mouth. “I want you too much,” he breathed against her skin, moving over to suck on her other nipple.

Ron mouth was like heaven and she writhed from his attention, drawing out a low groan from Harry as she moved against him. She would have begged for more, but Harry turned her head, kissing her as Ron dropped to his knees in front of her and began to trail his lips over her body.

Hermione was caught in such a haze, she hardly noticed that one of her legs had somehow ended up draped over Ron’s shoulder, or that Harry’s arm was hooked under the other, opening her to Ron’s hot gaze. Their kisses were so fiery and their rough hands felt so good, nothing else seemed to matter. Ron’s lips moved from her stomach, across her hipbone, and then trailed over the inside of her thigh until his mouth was hot against her center. His tongue ran over her folds, his fingers parted her, and he sucked at the sensitive nub she’d showed him earlier. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, tossing her head back against Harry’s shoulder. She was wild and wanton as she gasped for more, begging for release. Never in her life had she felt anything even remotely as wonderful as Ron’s mouth on her, sucking, licking, and driving her furiously towards oblivion.

Feeling like the whole world was spiraling wildly on its axis, Hermione reached behind her and gripped at Harry’s hair with one hand, needing something to help her feel grounded while the other hand tangled into Ron’s fiery locks. She held him to her, wanting so badly to convey just how desperate she was for him to continue. Her body was pulsing with need as the tension built inside her until finally she shattered, screaming and arching back against Harry. She pulled painfully at both boys’ hair as wave after wave on mind-blowing bliss washed over her. It felt like a lifetime before the pleasure finally started to recede and she was left breathless and disorientated in the aftermath.

Ron kissed his way up her body until he was looking down at her. “Repressed, huh?” he said when she finally forced herself to open her eyes. “I’d say that was the understatement of the century.”

Hermione thought to laugh at the joke, but she couldn’t. She was overcome with a surge of love and gratitude as she reached out to him, cupping his cheek and feeling the first signs of stubble against her palm.

“Thank you. . .” she sighed in a voice still low and sultry with sex. “. . .both of you.” She turned to kiss Harry and spoke against his lips. “That was wonderful.”

“Are we done?” Harry asked, smiling, but still looking very desperate.

Hermione shook her head, feeling suddenly devious as she turned back to Ron and slid off Harry to kneel with him on the ground. She pushed at Ron’s shoulder, forcing him back until he was laying sprawled on the carpet. She placed a kiss at the base of his throat and just that tiny bit of affection made him moan.

“Take off your trousers, Harry,” she said, and then nipped lightly at the freckled skin on Ron’s shoulder.

She didn’t look back at him when she heard Harry stand and unbuckle his trousers, instead she watched Ron, seeing the desire in his gaze as he lifted his head to look at Harry. His eyes sparked with the same raw hunger she’d seen when he looked at her, and that sent a voyeuristic thrill through her. Ron issued a small growl when Harry’s trousers hit the floor and he moved to sit up, but Hermione stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder to hold him to floor.

“My turn,” she said, unable to taper the excitement in her voice. “Don’t worry. . . you’ll be able to watch.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he studied her, and Hermione was hoping that she wouldn’t have to explain everything. She didn’t feel quite that bold yet, but she didn’t have to, Ron relaxed under her after a few seconds and she breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned down to kiss his stomach, tracing her tongue over the muscles there, enjoying the way they clenched from her attention. Harry dropped to his knees behind her, running his hands over her shoulders and down to her hips, and then leaned over to place a kiss at against the curve of her back.

“Hermione,” Harry said in a low voice she hardly recognized. “I don’t think I can’t wait.”

“Then don’t,” Hermione said, feeling Harry’s hands still on her body and knowing he felt uncertain. “It’s okay, Harry. . . you won’t hurt me.”

Still he waited and Hermione couldn’t think of how to convey her need, her desire to have him in her, to be connected with both of them. Having to say the words would make it seem almost perverse but the actions themselves felt right.

So, she acted.

Hermione moved farther down Ron’s body until Harry’s erection was brushing against her backside and her nose nestled against the sacks between Ron’s legs. She inhaled the masculine scent of him, darting her tongue out to run it over the underside of his cock, making Ron moan, and she savored it as she licked all the way up his length and then took him into her mouth.

“Oh God,” Harry gasped as Ron pitched beneath her, tossing his head back against the carpet and pushing himself deeper into her mouth.

She could feel Harry shaking as he guided himself to her and plunged in, filling her body with one thrust. Hermione was unprepared for the surge of pleasure that came as he breached her body, still so sensitive, and she couldn’t choke back the muffled moan that escaped her.

Be connected to both men was a raw, potent, and wonderful experience. It felt like all three of them had reached the end of a very long journey, that this was where they belonged, and it was right for them.

The air was filled with the low, primal sound of lovers caught in the throes of passion. Feeling their pleasure, knowing she was causing it was empowering. Hermione felt sensual and womanly, like a goddess and she wanted it to last forever, but the sensations were too much. Harry was thrusting into her, Ron’s hands were tangled in her hair, guiding her as she sucked him until none of them could control the rising tide of pleasure that pulled them down until, with a final hard thrust, Harry climaxed, starting the chain reaction that left them all shuddering and gasping in release.

Afterwards, none of them could speak. They lay in a tangled heap of limbs, grasping for breath until after a long while they were left humming in quiet contentment. Her head still rested on Ron’s thigh. Harry’s fingers trailed over her back as he held her from behind and placed kisses against her bare shoulder. Finally, Ron reached down and tilted her chin until she was looking up at him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, smiling and letting his gaze run over her and Harry’s naked bodies still tangled together.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she complained, finding that she was still surprisingly alert.

Harry chuckled, leaning in to lick at the tender spot behind her ear. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

 

~*~

Sunlight, bright and harsh, flooded the bedroom, casting rays of warmth over Harry until he had no choice but to blink awake. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt like late morning, perhaps even early afternoon and he stretched, savoring the languid feel of the morning after. His body ached, but it was a good feeling, one that made him feel alive and satisfied.

It took a few moments for him to realize he was alone on Ron’s bed and he was confused for a brief second before he heard Hermione’s laughter mingled with the sound of running water. He rolled over and tilted his head, looking past the bathroom door that was left wide open and saw the hazy shapes of his two best friends though the steam that wafted out from the shower.

Strangely enough, he was struck by how much Ron had grown over the years, since he looked so much taller pressed against Hermione’s small body. Out of habit, he reached for his glasses on the nightstand and the two of them came into sharper focus. Harry could see Ron’s hands trailing over Hermione’s shoulders and down her back, soapy bubbles dripping in their wake.

He’d been worried that perhaps they might be angry at him for his trickery, with the drugs gone and the consequences of their drastically altered friendship lingering in the aftermath, but both of them looked happy. Ron was whispering something to Hermione and Hermione was still giggling, which was odd, since Hermione didn’t giggle. Likewise, Ron was also laughing, and the deep pitch of it echoed off the tile. Harry didn’t think he’d ever heard or seen the two of them so carefree.

It was true, this was what he’d wanted, for them to be happy, but his heart clenched anyway. He told himself that he wouldn’t be jealous when they realized the love they shared, but he was and he tried to shove it aside as he watched. Ron finally finished with Hermione’s back and Hermione turned to return the favor. He knew all too well what the muscles on Ron’s back felt like under soapy fingers and he almost felt like he was experiencing it with Hermione as her small hands ran over the plains of muscles until they slipped down to grip at his arse, making him jump in false indignation and round on her.

Harry still couldn’t hear their words, but he heard Hermione’s squeal of amused panic as she backed up and Ron pinned her to the tile with his large body. He leaned down to kiss her, and Harry could see the game stop, and he found himself getting hard as he watched the passion flare easily between the two of them.

They were so beautiful, wet and soapy, as they kissed and touched, becoming near frantic in their groping until Ron growled loud enough for Harry to hear and picked up Hermione, raising her high against the wall of the shower and plunging into her. Hermione’s legs were wrapped around Ron’s waist, her head was thrown back and her wet hair tangled around both of them as Ron began thrusting in her.

Harry finally understood the voyeuristic thrill that came from watching something secret and sexual. His heart was breaking just a little, but their happiness was worth the pain. He could walk away knowing that this was what he was leaving them with, because there was no question, the two of them looked very much in love as low moans and gasps of pleasure drifted out of the bathroom.

Hermione screamed Ron’s name, her hands gripping at his shoulders as she came, and Ron groaned in response, his thrusts hard and erratic as he buried his face into the curve of her neck.

Not wanting to be caught watching something so personal, Harry took his cue and rolled over to feign sleep. It wasn’t long before he heard them leave the shower and he desperately tried to will away the reaction his body was still having from seeing the two of them together, but he didn’t have a chance. Like an over zealous puppy, Ron bounded onto the bed, still soaking wet.

“Stop pretending, wanker,” Ron laughed, shaking Harry roughly. “We know you’re awake.”

“Shove off,” Harry growled, shivering as Ron dripped water over him.

“Oh, now you’re angry?” Ron said, his voice still laced with mirth and gravely with sex. “We know you were watching.”

Harry grunted, not sure how he was discovered and really not caring. He found that what he really wanted was to be alone to sort out his raging emotions and build up a defense against the raw feelings surging through him.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Hermione said soothingly, coming into the bedroom. “We left the door open for you.”

“Yeah, Hermione didn’t want to be the only sinner who liked spying on two people fucking.”

“Why do you always have to be so crude?” Hermione chastised, and Harry heard the sound of her smacking Ron’s wet shoulder. “You ruin everything.”

Hermione crawled onto the bed next to Harry and turned on her side, facing him. He opened his eyes, seeing that she was wearing his green robe and her hair was wrapped up in towel. She reached out to him, trailing her fingers lovingly over his jaw line.

“You should have come in and joined us,” Hermione said, looking at him in concern. “If we’d known you were awake, we would have waited.”

“I didn’t want to intrude on you two,” Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut again and hating that he felt suddenly vulnerable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have watched.”

“What are you on about?” Ron said, now sounding annoyed, as he not so gently forced Harry onto his back so that he was looking down at him. “Intrude? Did the drugs affect my memory of last night, because I thought I remembered you there?”

“I just wanted to help,” Harry said, forcing his voice to be impassive. “You two don’t owe me anything. . . I’ll be fine on my own. I can even move out if you want me to.”

“What?” Hermione gasped, sounding horrified. “Move out? Why?”

“He’s not moving out,” Ron said, looking down at Harry and arching an eyebrow. “This is a game Harry likes to play. . . It’s called the martyr game.”

“Fuck you, I’m serious,” Harry snapped, feeling his temper snap. “You two don’t have to pretend that you need me. I knew what I was doing when I set up everything. I don’t need you.”

Ron looked completely unfazed by Harry’s outburst. “Well, that’s too bad. . . because we need you. So deal with it.”

“You don’t need me. . .I don’t think you ever did.”

“Are you kidding?” Ron said, gripping both his shoulders, so that he was pinned to the bed. “Not need you? The Mighty Harry Potter. . .”

“Shut up, prat!”

“. . . the Savior of the Wizarding World. . . Defender of all that is good and --- Mmph. . . ”

Harry had somehow managed to grab the pillow next to him, and hit Ron squarely in the face with it, cutting off his tirade. The stunned look on his face was too much and Harry burst out laughing despite his irritation. Ron jerked the pillow away from him, narrowly missing Hermione when he tossed it across the room.

“You’ll pay for that, Potter.”

“Oh, it’s Potter now?” Harry said, still laughing as he rolled over to escape Ron. “What happened to Master of the Universe or whatever bunk you were--Get off me!”

Ron had managed to pin Harry to bed, being far too fast for someone so tall, though if Harry were honest, he probably wasn’t trying too hard to get away. Hermione had jumped off the bed, obviously in fear of her safety, and Ron turned to her.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said, laughing and breathless as he struggled to hold Harry to the bed. “Come help me.”

Harry expected for Hermione to dismiss them both as childish, but he was surprised when she jumped back on the bed, and looked down at him, boldly stopping to stare at his still hard cock.

“We do owe for your sneakiness,” Hermione said in her most logical voice.

“That’s right!” Ron said as though he’d only just remembered. “You drugged us. . . That deserves some pretty severe punishment.”

Harry couldn’t help but get harder at Ron’s words, and he hated that Ron must have known, because he leaned down to lick at his ear. In perfect harmony, Hermione had bent forward and placed kiss against his bare chest, moving her hot mouth over until she was at his nipple, and bit gently. Harry’s hips jerked, groaning as a wave of lust washed over him

“How long do you think it’ll take the two of us to teach you how to be loved?” Ron whispered into his ear.

Harry sighed. “Probably forever.”

Ron pulled up and exchanged one quick glance with Hermione before he turned back to Harry, smiling. “Well, you’re in luck, mate. . . because that’s just how long we’ve got.”


End file.
